love is a place
by thorn-bird
Summary: A spring day away. BJxHawkeye


_-.-.-.- _

Slow motion day, like a sweating glass of lemonade on a summer afternoon. But it's spring, and the two weeks of rain are over; leaving all of Korea with sunshine, blue skies and puffy cumulus clouds.

They're expecting no casualties for three or four days and it's as if even the war has taken a break for the occasion. Over the sound of Potter and a few of the enlisted men playing basketball, BJ hears two birds singing to one another. He lifts his straw hat off his face and revels in the feeling of the warm sun beating on his face.

And then, a hand, on his shoulder. BJ doesn't flinch, recognizing the touch. Somewhat awkwardly, he leans into it and Hawkeye says, "We should go for a walk."

"I thought you were going on a walk with Nurse Edwards?"

Hawkeye shrugs. He doesn't look at BJ, tilts his head toward the sky and smiles, squinting into the high sun.

"Sprained her ankle," Hawkeye explains.

"Ah ha. So, I'm your second choice?"

"Third or fourth, really, but you should come anyway."

BJ shrugs and gets to his feet. A walk with Hawkeye is better than other versions of his afternoon off—wasting it getting sun burnt in front of the Swamp or trying not to let Frank ruin it i _in /i _ the Swamp.

They pack a picnic: liverwurst, Ritz crackers Peg sent from home, and a package of Fig Newtons. Hawkeye fills two canteens with their homemade swill and tosses them over BJ's shoulder. "I'm driving!"

"Then I call shotgun."

Something about the day turns them into schoolboys as they head away from camp, skipping stones and kicking sticks as they walk down a flat path Hawkeye says he takes only his most special dates down.

"I'm special now, but will you still respect me in the morning?" BJ asks. But Hawkeye ignores him, as he has found their destination—a clearing about a mile away from camp, surrounded by the newly blossoming wild flowers and trees. The ground is blanketed in pine needles and soft wild grass, and BJ can see why Hawkeye would take a date here.

Summer's close and the dandelion clocks are everywhere, taller and fatter than BJ remembers them ever getting at home.

"I used to get in trouble for doing this when I was a kid," Hawkeye says, plucking three or four out of the ground. He holds them like a bride throwing her bouquet and shakes the seedlings out, watching them catch and float away in the wind. "Here's hoping we're not here long enough to see those bloom."

He looks suddenly sad and thoughtful.

BJ leans down and grabs a handful of the gray fuzz. Holding it on his palm, he blows it into Hawkeye's face.

"Hey! I'm going to have weeds growing out of my hair," he looks annoyed but BJ is pleased to hear a smile in his voice.

"We'll harvest you next spring and make dandelion soup."

"Forget the soup, we'll make wine."

They eat their snack lying on their backs, watching clouds in the fantastic sapphire sky. They laze mostly in silence, no need to say much.

Everything is so beautiful BJ has almost forgotten they're in a war zone. Of course, being with Hawkeye often has that effect on him; he'd found that out that pretty quickly.

"Peggy and I used to do this at Golden Gate Park every Sunday in the spring when I was in residency," he says. "Cheap way to have fun. You know what residency's like."

"Longer shifts than we put in at the 4077th now with less money," Hawkeye says, then adds as an afterthought, "It seems almost impossible, doesn't it?"

"I spent about seven months panicking before I got used to the idea of being a father," BJ says. He rolls onto his stomach and looks at Hawkeye, who's sprawled out on his back with his hands flat on the ground, fingers spread apart. He turns his head in BJ's direction when he hears him shift positions. "We could barely afford groceries when Peggy got pregnant. My parents had money but I didn't want to ask for help buying my own kid's diapers. They thought I should've waited to get married, anyway."

"Do you regret any of it?"

BJ thinks of cotton candy-pink wool jammies that he unzipped to drum his big hands on Erin's soft tummy, always the same tune: shave and a haircut, two bits. The memory seemed far away even by the time he arrived in Korea, but in this moment he can smell baby powder and feel her tiny legs kicking at his chest when she giggled.

The memory of her big toothless grin makes him smile, now, and Hawkeye demands, "What?", sounding a little amused.

BJ shakes his head. "Nothing. Sometimes…you're right. I wonder what could've been. But I don't regret Erin. I don't regret…." he trails off.

"Anything?" Hawkeye supplies. He reaches for the last Fig Newton and offers BJ half. BJ declines.

"No, no," BJ says, waving his hands. "Everybody has regrets."

"Even you?" his tone is accidentally accusatory, the words stinging. Their eyes meet.

It is BJ who looks away first. BJ who bails when the reality sets in, when this level of intimacy slips into their everyday lives; although Hawkeye's chickened out his fair share. It's been happening more and more lately. BJ grows braver each time, though he never understands the occurrences any better. It only happens when they're alone like this—BJ suspected it would be a lot easier to deal with in the OR or the crowded mess tent. He turns his head forward and rests his chin on the soft blanket of pine needles.

Seems wrong, to feel the way he feels now while they're talking about Peggy and Erin.

"Even me."

For a minute, he doesn't think Hawkeye hears him. But when he dares to glance over, Hawk is nodding—because just as BJ always bails when things get scary, Hawkeye always hears.

_-.-.-.-_


End file.
